


What's in a Name?

by storyofeden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Schmoopy Schmoopy Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyofeden/pseuds/storyofeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had really really lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name?

_“I’ve lived. I’ve really really lived. I’ve failed. I’ve been devastated. I’ve been broken. I’ve gone to hell and back. And I’m also known joy. And Passion. And I’ve had a great love. See…death for me is not justice. It’s a…end of a beautiful journey. And I’m not afraid to die. The question is, are you? A life is Prison or an afterlife…with your life. Me or you? Your choice.”_

 

Sam turned off the TV and tossed the remote onto the crappy hotel desk. As much as Dean loved Dr. Sexy MD, he thought it was asinine, unintelligible, overly-dramatic crap. Well, all that, and it was depressing. Sam had had enough sad shit happen in his life to put Ellen Piccolo and Dr. Wang to shame.

Chief Weller didn’t know what he was talking about. Sam really had been to hell and back. Sam knew pain. Sam had been devastated.

None of them knew what it was like to be a freak, to be the bane of your father’s existence. They didn’t know what it was like to have their father sell his soul for their brother who, in turn, sold his soul for them. They didn’t really rick their lives every day for the sake of all humanity. Sam had. Sam saved the damn world from the apocalypse.  He had really lived, dammit. He and Dean had really lived.

Sam sighed, lying back on the bed and lacing his hands behind his head.

Maybe he hadn’t really lived. He’d never had a great love. Jess was…safe, boring. He had simply been addicted to Ruby. And death? Death wasn’t justice. It was…just something that happened. Winchesters never stayed dead for long anyway.

His phone rang, startling him. Sam shook his thoughts away and answered.

“Yeah?”

“Sam…Sammy?”

“Dean? What?” He shouldn’t been back an hour ago. “Where are you? Do you need back up?”

“Didn’t…didn’t have pie. De…demons. D-diner. Ambush.” Dean rasped out.

“Shit. I’ll be there. Hang on.”

“Lo…Love you, Sammy. Al…Always loved you.”

The connection went dead and Sam swore under his breath. Fuck. It was probably a trap. Dean didn’t say things like that. He only confessed love for two things: Food and the Impala.

So it wasn’t Dean. At least, not really. Possession? It was possible, but they had the tattoos. Sure, getting them had been a drunken decision, but the sigil was correct and it had worked so far. Was there something that could get around it? Something even they hadn’t encountered before? He supposed it could be a shifter. Or even leviathan, if there were even any still left around by a fluke. Whatever, it didn’t matter. Dean needed him.

It took him an hour or so, but Sam finally found him.

“Dean! God…Dean!”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not deaf. Just…bleeding a little. That’s all.”

Bleeding “a little” was a huge understatement, even by Winchester standards. Blood was coming from everywhere, the warm, sticky substance covering Dean and the ground around him. Sam’s hands were coated in it now. In blood. Dean’s blood.

“Ok.” Sam went in to crisis mode. “Okay. Uh. We’ll do this systematically. Like we always do.”

“Sammy—”

“What hurts the most?”

“Sammy—”

“Dean, we have to—”

“Sam!”

He went still, clenching his fists against Dean’s torso. “What…?”

“It’s too late, man. We don’t have the skills to…And I’ll never make it to the…” He trailed off.

“Bullshit, Dean. We’ve been through worse. We can—” Sam ripped open Dean’s shirt. “—Deal…with…this.”

It wasn’t the injuries that caused Sam to stop. There was blood everywhere, sure, and bones could be seen through the gash on his right side. But that didn’t even make him flinch. No, it was the tattoo. The thing that kept them Winchesters.

Right there. Over his heart. Was the anti-possession tattoo. And right there. Under the sigil. Were five simply letters. Placed over Dean’s heart.

 

# S A M M Y

\-------

Years later, Sam sat on a bench in front of a lone headstone, his gray hair blowing in the wind. Every year on this day, he would sit and stare at the square rock. He’d drink a six pack and feel the warmth on his skin.

It took him a while, but, looking back, he realized that he had lived. Really really lived. Sure, he’d been broken and devastated. And he really had been to hell and back. At this time in his life, death wasn’t justice. Or revenge. Or a price to pay. He’d done his share of hunting, and when he retired, he played the role of “Bobby” to a couple young guns. The idgits reminded Sam of him and Dean.

And, despite all evidence to the contrary, Sam had a great love.

The sun began to set. Sam picked up all his beer cans and placed them back in the plastic sack. As he walked away, his right hand came up to rub absentmindedly at the four letters tattooed just below the anti-possession symbol. Right over his heart.

 

# D E A N

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, I do not hate on Grey's Anatomy. I actually watch the show every week, like clockwork. =]


End file.
